God's Will
by ShinyRedPenny
Summary: Henry does not see Jane's favor as what saved him that fateful day when he fell beneath his horse, but rather the cause of it.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Going off of ReganXs _Cursed Charm_ plot line. Hope you enjoy, please review. **

The blaring trumpets and noisy chatter of the crowds were giving him a headache. It was a hot summer day and even standing in his tent, the sweat was dripping down his back. As he stood still, being laced into his heavy armour, King Henry couldn't help but wish he had never asked his old friend, Sir Henry Norris to arrange this godforsaken joust. As each heavy plate was tied to his body, he felt his vision blur and his balance sway.

"Boy!" he snapped irritably, causing his squire to flinch. "Fetch me that towel." he gestured over to the table and the boy leapt to obey him. He ran the rough cloth over his brow, mopping up the sweat that was quickly accumulating. As the room once again went out of focus, he screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. It was so unbearably hot...Why the devil did Norris pick the most humid, the most hellish day of the summer? Henry grabbed a cup of ale and drained it quickly, hoping the refreshment might steady him. His turn in the joust was quickly approaching and his sight must be perfect if he was going to unhorse Sir Henry. Jerking away from his insufferable squire, the king tore open the tent flap and stepped out into the blinding sun.

For a moment, his squinting eyes turned towards the empty royal box that would have been housing his queen. However the box stood empty as Anne had excused herself from the festivities so that so would not be too excited in her condition. While Henry was pleased she was taking extra precautions to protect his son, he couldn't help but be all the more relieved to not have to bear the sight of her this day.

He didn't know what had gone wrong. He had loved her so fiercely, he loved her still, but the woman was becoming more and more infuriating. She was jealous and stubborn and prone to fits of temper that betrayed the position he had raised her to. It had become embarrassing as she continued to make a fool of him in front of his whole court with her antics. Let alone how the empty royal nursery made a fool of him throughout Christendom. He knew his fellow monarchs were laughing behind their hands at the English king that had thrown away everything for a woman that had yet to give him a son and heir. He shook the furious thoughts from his head quickly. A prince was growing in his wife's belly now. Soon they would all have to admit that he was right in his choice to set Katherine aside. Yet while Anne was beautiful and educated and witty and made a fine ornament for his court, especially large with his child, he couldn't help but find himself wishing she could just be calm and sensible for just one damn moment. Be the sweet maid she had been in their courtship-knowing her place as his consort and not seeking to command him as she did now.

His mind swirling in angry thoughts of his wife, Henry stepped towards the tilt yard when a glimmer of green caught his eye. Instantly, his irritation towards his dark, brooding wife vanished as his gaze settled on the lady walking past him. Jane Seymour. The beauty had first caught his eye at her families estate at Wolf Hall and Henry had been quick to bring her and her family to court. She had been like an angel come to earth that night-dazzling in a white gown trimmed with silver and pearls, with her soft blonde hair curled around her shoulders. She had been so unlike anything he'd ever seen before. So unlike the jeweled, sharp women at his court. So unlike his beguiling queen. He had caught sight of her only a few times since, yet she never managed to draw his attention. She was a cooling draught to the fire that was his court.

Now she passed him, dressed in all the finery of court, yet still managing to look as innocent and virtuous as before. Seeing her in this moment reminded him of why he wanted to have this joust to begin with. Henry could feel his age in a way he never had before, what better way than asking a pretty maiden for her favor to make him feel like a young, dashing knight again? When he had unhorsed Sir Norris perhaps he would dedicate his win to the lovely Jane. After all, how could Anne protest when she herself was not present? How could she possibly see reason to rail at him as she seemed to always do as of late.

Determined never to live under petticoat rule, he strode forward and called out to her.

"Lady Jane" he greeted shortly, but not without warmth. She jumped at his voice and immediately sank into a wobbly curtsy. She did not have the practiced elegance of the other ladies at court, but her awkwardness was endearing and he couldn't help but smile. She kept her eyes downcast modestly and he took the moment to let his gaze drift over her form. The pale green gown she was wearing was simple and unadorned, yet made with a fine cloth and the color brought out the loveliness in her eyes. Her blonde hair was again hanging in curls upon her shoulders and for a moment Henry wanted to reach out and feel them-knowing they would be as soft as they appeared. Yet the large jeweled cross around her neck made him refrain-this was a maiden in truth- a beautiful Guinevere that deserved a loyal Lancelot. He must not spoil the game too early.

"Your majesty" she murmured, overawed. Her voice was sweet and gentle, like fresh butter and for just a moment, he could practically hear her sigh of delight as if she were underneath him. How this innocent virgin tempted him.

"I am about to go and joust" He said grandly, amused by the awe in her eyes. Awe that he had not seen in Anne's eyes in years-if ever. Anne had always been determined that they be equal partners in their marriage, but that was not the way it should be. He was the _king_. There was no equal to him. Anne should know her place, as Jane so clearly did. "Would you do me the honor of allowing me to wear your favors?"

The way those clear blue eyes shot to meet his own had him weak in the knees. He could tell that despite her delicate innocence, she was not wholly unaware of what the request symbolized. Her indecision swirled clearly in them as she seemed to weigh her options. For just half a heartbeat Henry thought she might refuse him-might turn him away as maid should to a man. The thought of it drove him mad. He was desperate to posses her. Her gentle reluctance only fueled the lust that was burning inside of him. So when she finally reached to pull the ribbon from her wrist, the relief was palpable. The knowledge that the hunt had begun was intoxicating.

This was just the beginning for he and Jane-that he could tell. This defining moment would be the beginning of their courtship. But Jane would not be like Mary Boleyn or Eleanor Luke. Not even like his sweet Bessie Blount who had held his attention for years and had bore him his only living son. No, Jane would be something wholly different. He would not dishonor her. Theirs would be a love story that would rival any fairy tale. He took the slip of teal ribbon and pressed it up to his lips as he wished he could do with her own. They locked eyes as he did so and Henry could see the delicate blush rising in her cheeks. God, this woman drove him to insanity. He brusquely walked away from her, not trusting his own self control to stop him from taking her into his arms there before his whole court. Yet as he climbed onto his horse, he met eyes with her again and couldn't help the boyish grin that came over his features. He would have to thank Sir Norris for arranging this joust-arranging this moment between him and Jane.

As he took his place in the tiltyard and pulled the visor down on his helmet, he surged with confidence. His interaction with Jane had reinvigorated him and he felt like the young man and dazzling king he was. His grip on the lance tightened and he kicked his knees in to jerk his mount forward. His horses hooves pounded into the kicked up soil as he lurched forward, lance at the ready. Yet as he closed in on Sir Henry, he felt his horse falter beneath him. His lance slammed into Sir Henry's, throwing the king back and the knight's own lance shot into his shoulder. His mare stumbled and Henry was thrown from his seat. Horse and man crashed to the ground and Henry could barely register the gasps and screams of the crowd before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas Boleyn had not always held such high esteem at court. He could still remember the dark days of scrounging for favor, trying to prove his worth. He could not boast noble blood and even now there were several at court that reminded him of that at every step-although no one but his damned brother-in-law would ever say so to his face. No, not now with his daughter sitting on the throne of England would they ever disrespect him so. Yet he knew they all thought it.

Yet his hard past had taught him how to navigate the politics of court better than any and now those instincts were screaming in his ear. He watched his son-in-law, the king, speaking with that little wisp of a Seymour and couldn't stop the dread that was creeping it's way down the back of his neck. He had watched the king chase after this lady or that for years, even back when they called Katherine queen. Hadn't he found his power now by taking advantage of King Henry's wandering eye? Turn it towards his daughter who now held the crown? Yet as he watched King Henry's eyes latch onto that milk-faced girl, he could tell that it was more dangerous than any other mistress he had kept since Anne ascended the throne. He was not looking at her in a way he had with Eleanor Luke or his niece Margaret. They had very clearly been objects to quench his lust. But Henry did not have just lust in his eyes as he spoke to the girl.

Boleyn's eyes narrowed as he studied the object of the king's attention. She was pretty, there was no denying, but otherwise unremarkable. Just pale and pretty. His gaze slid to Sir John Seymour and his son, who sat closer to the royal box than they had previously. The cogs turned in his mind as he puzzled. He knew his daughter and the king's relationship had been strained of late, but he wouldn't have anything to worry about as long as she delivered a healthy son. She would not have to worry about any mistresses once she was secure as the mother to the next king of England. But until that happened, they were all unsafe. And Boleyn did not like the idea that the king would not only let a pretty noblewoman turn his head, but to also shower favor on her family. It was a man's right to take a mistress, especially when his wife was with child, but gaining the favor of the king posed a threat to the Boleyn family.

Thomas silently cursed his daughter as he watched Henry take the girl's favor from around her wrist. Hadn't he told her to push someone under their control in front of her husband? Why had she picked that dullard, Margaret who could barely catch the attention of a lowly knight, let alone a king? Oh the king had taken the bait, but only for a night or two. Now little Madge was ruined for nothing and the king's gaze had moved on to someone that would not work for the Howard family. He watched as Charles Brandon returned to his seat, joking good naturedly with the Seymour men. His brow furrowed at the sight. Brandon was a powerful man again, but he forgot who brought him back into favor. Had it not been for the Boleyn and Howard families, he would still be living in exile. Now he scorns the very family that brought him back to court and smiles on those Seymour snakes.

Urging himself to calm, Boleyn turned back to the festivities, where the king was lining up to oppose Sir Henry Norris. All would be well. As soon as Anne gave the king a son, all would be as it should. The Boleyn's would take their place as the highest family in the land. Let them all laugh at him then. The little blonde slut would not matter in the slightest. She and her godforsaken family could return to the country where they belonged.

As the horses rushed each other, Boleyn shook the worries from his mind. But the the king's mount faltered, throwing him from his seat. The crowd watched, horrified, as their king crashed to the ground and lay unmoving. For a heartbeat, no one reacted, but then they were all rushing to the field in panic.

"Is he dead?" Brandon demanded, shoving them out of the way and kneeling to his friend. They removed his helmet and Boleyn noticed the paleness in his cheeks. Pale beneath the blood flowing from a cut on his forehead. Linacre, the royal physician, struggled through the crowds. Thomas snapped his fingers and they instantly parted, allowing the man through to examine the fallen king.

"Take him, with all care, to the pavilion" Linacre demanded-his voice shaking. "Where I may serve him better...And pray for him..." his words were met with a heavy silence before they all rushed to do his bidding. As his son, George, and that Seymour dog, Edward lifted the king and carried him to the tents, Boleyn couldn't help but hang back. What would this mean, if Henry were to die? Anne was still hated throughout the country, Elizabeth was just a babe. He would have to move quickly if they were to secure the kingdom. And he knew the perfect man to help him secure the throne-Cromwell.

As everyone rushed to follow the king's unconscious body, Boleyn turned to the castle. He needed to start now. As he passed the tent housing his fallen monarch, he couldn't help but catch sight of the wretch herself, kneeling and sobbing. His lip curling in disgust, Thomas Boleyn turned his cloak and fled.

 **A/N: Such positive responses! I'm so glad you enjoyed the first chapter! This one is a bit of a filler before I go into Anne's reaction, but I really wanted to capture this moment because I loved Nick Dunning's acting in the scene. His character is awful, but the acting is so great as you can clearly see the cogs turning in his mind. Say what you will about Thomas Boleyn, but he was a major power player and was very politically savvy!**


	3. Chapter 3

Anne sat by the fire, pulling a needle through the pure white cloth and trying not to focus on the enjoyment she must be missing. On the dull silence that engulfed the queen's chambers. Her father had insisted that she shut herself away from any excitement and instead reside in her rooms alone while the rest of court celebrated the warm summer day. She had protested at first, knowing her husband would use the freedom from his wife's gaze to select his newest mistress, but she had ultimately relented. She knew better than anyone that no risk could come to the child growing in her womb. Even of having her faithless husband pick some new slut to share his bed. The boredom she felt at spending the day locked away in her chambers, sitting by the fire while her husband and their court enjoyed the joust wouldn't compare to the agony she would feel if the child was harmed in any way by the excitement.

So she sat, stitching her child's christening gown in the cool, dark room with only a handful of ladies and her darling Mark to keep her company. She glanced up at the musician who was playing a gentle, soothing tune a few feet from her. There were few at court she counted as true friends, and Mark was one of them. Despite his humble upbringing (or perhaps because of it) Mark had always been trustworthy and constant to her. Perhaps once a prince or two were in the royal nursery, she would ask her husband to ennoble the musician. It was more than Mark deserved for being so faithfully unwavering to her and her cause. Henry had always appreciated the man's overwhelming talent-perhaps it wouldn't be too hard to convince him to reward the man.

Anne had just turned back to her work when the door to her chamber slammed open loudly. The sudden noise caused her to jump and turn to the commotion, seeing her cousin and Lady in Waiting, Madge run towards her. Her other ladies looked on in annoyance-they all knew that Anne should not face any discomfort-but Anne knew Madge would not act this way unless there was a reason. The girl was a simpleton, but would not cause her unnecessary stress. So as the queen took in Madge's white face and wide eyes, she felt her heart sink. She rose from her seat, letting the chemise she had been stitching fall to the floor. She stepped over her work and made her way to Madge, who had halted but stood panting in exertion. The poor girl looked like she had run all the way from the gates, only furthering Anne's fear.

"Madam! Oh, madam..." she panted, looking terrified.

"Madge, what is it? What's happened?" Anne croaked, a hand absentmindedly finding its way to her belly, as if the shield the child growing within.

"I...his..." Madge sputtered, obviously in shock.

Overcome with irritation, Anne snapped her fingers, drawing her cousin out of her stupor. "Madge! What's happened?!"

"Oh madam, the king has fallen from his horse and has been crushed..." Anne could feel the blood rush from her face and her knees go weak. "They say he is likely to die..."

Anne's vision started to blur as fear engulfed her. Henry dead? Her husband, the man she loved, her king, gone? Leaving her alone with an infant girl and an unborn child to hold down the country. Leaving her alone in this world? Pain shot through her abdomen and she gasped, clutching her belly. She could feel her knees giving way and she staggered.

"Mark..?" In an instant, he was there, holding her up and keeping her from toppling to the ground. She clutched at him, desperate to ease the panic that was overcoming her. Desperate to calm the wild hysteria that would harm the child inside her. "Oh no no no no..." she gasped. "Say it isn't so...Please, no.. Please, God say it is not so..." Behind her, she barely registered Madge fleeing her rooms. As Mark lowered her into her chair, tears bubbled over, flowing down her cheeks. The poor musician looked on, clearly unsure of what to do.

"My...my father. Get my father." Anne made out, her voice laced with pain and despair.

...

When Thomas Boleyn finally arrived after what seemed like hours, Anne reached out to her papa, her eyes begging him to help her. Her took her outstretched hands and rubbed calming circles into them, seating himself across from her. Even her competent and always calm father looked fearful, his face unnaturally white and his grip on her fingers shaky.

"Has there been news?" she practically whispered, her voice hoarse. "No one will tell me anything..."

"Cromwell is drawing up declarations of Elizabeth's ascension and moving forward with her coronation. We must get the nobles to support us. George is securing Hartford and Norris now. I just left Norfolk-he will obviously throw his support behind his niece." her father spoke lowly and quickly, clearly eager to go back to his work, but Anne just looked at him, confused.

"I meant Henry. Has there been any news of Henry." She didn't care about the throne right now, she didn't even care about securing her beloved daughter's crown. Her only thought was of her dying husband-her Henry who she might lose.

But her father just waved his arm, as if her entire life was not hanging in balance. "No news yet, he is still unconscious. But Anne, you must prepare for the worst. You must secure your seat on the throne! Elizabeth is a child and we don't know if this one is a son." He placed his hands on her belly. "If Henry does fall, you must be regent!" He implored her, yet his words fell on ringing ears. Anne could not imagine a life without Henry. She didn't want to. Hearing the possibility had her hyperventilating, though her father seemed oblivious to her stress.

"Your grace..." Mark murmured behind her, finally stopping Boleyn's lecture and bringing his attention to Anne's bloodless face and gasping. He bit his lip to hide his irritation and instead placed a hand on hers.

"It will be alright, sweetheart, don't distress! Think of your child, and calm yourself. All will be alright...I will handle everything. You need not worry."

He left her in her misery-no more aware or consoled than when he arrived. But she couldn't sit there any longer, she had to do something. She stood abruptly, causing her ladies to jump slightly. They waited with unease for her to speak and she was suddenly desperate to be rid of them. All of them.

"I am going to chapel to pray for his majesty." She snapped, moving towards the door. When they moved to follow, she turned and glared at them. "Alone! And I am not to be disturbed unless it is news of the king." And with that she stalked out.


	4. Chapter 4

Everything ached. His bones and joints and muscles were screaming at him even though he was laying still and although his eyes were closed, the light was still pounding through his eyelids. He could hear crying and muttered prayers from all angles, though he couldn't make out anyone's voice clearly. Wherever he was, it was overwhelmingly hot and the flat surface he was laying on was stiff and uncomfortable. He lay there, still dazed and dizzy, trying to move despite the screaming pain.

What had happened? His memory came back in flashes: The tourney, the jousting, Jane... He remembered the moment Henry Norris' lance had slammed into his shoulder, throwing him from his mount. Yet he had been unhorsed before (however infrequently) and he had not ever felt the pain he was feeling now. But then he remembered how his horse had faltered, and remembered hearing the wooden paneling of the jousting ring cracking from the weight before he had lost consciousness.

At once, his eyes snapped open. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the blaring light that was filtering in from the tent flaps and another moment before anyone even realized he was awake. At once there was a flurry of movement and praises to God. Henry craned his neck despite the agonizing pain and took in the scene. His courtiers were uselessly running around, like a flock of frightened birds. He did not know how long he had been under the hold of death, but by the anxious looks and tears on everyone's faces, it must have been too long.

Fear flooded through him. If he had not awoken, what would have happened to his kingdom? With only his little Elizabeth as his heir and Anne's belly still swollen with uncertainty, what could have happened had this joust taken his life? Would his kingdom have been thrown into the tumultuous civil war that waged before King Henry VII secured the crown for the Tudors? How many of these greedy lords would have heeded his wishes and cleaved to Elizabeth or Anne's unborn child if it was a male? Or would his precious princess be pushed aside-in whatever way- to make way for a pretender? Such fears were crippling as he allowed the doctors to unhook his heavy armor and shrugged the metal from his person. As Linacre jumped forward, pressing a cool cloth to the dripping cut on his forehead, Henry's eyes were caught by a fluttering of light green.

His gaze zeroed in on the slip of ribbon. Such a slight piece of cloth, yet instantly the sight of it had fear and suspicion dripped icily down his spine.

 _Jane_

He had asked for her favor, carried it in his breastplate, had hoped to dedicate his win to the fair maiden...and then he had fallen. He had never been hurt so seriously on the jousting field before-nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises-nothing like today. But the moment he had taken Jane's favor, he had not just lost the joust, he had almost lost his life. He reached out with a shaking hand and picked up the ribbon, turning it in his hand, noticing that his blood now stained the pretty green. He remembered how his mind had wandered as she had flashed those blue eyes at him. How he had looked at her and not thought of just how to get her into his bed, but how to put her by his side.

Now shame washed over him at the memory that he had thought that if Anne failed in delivering the prince she had promised him he would replace her with the blonde woman before him. He had pictured Jane beside him on the throne, an obedient, calm-tempered queen. He with a wife he had torn the country apart for large with his child! He had thought Jane was a pure, virtuous angel come to earth. That she was a sign from God that regardless to the failures of the past, if Anne was unable to produce a son-there was another option for him. That perhaps Anne was not the woman he thought she was and that this sweet, innocent maiden would be the perfect queen.

But he had been wrong. He dropped the ribbon as if it burned him and let in fall the the ground-determined to abandon it like he would the woman who had cursed him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Mary, mother of Christ, be with me now..._

The well practiced prayers flowed from Anne's lips as she knelt before the altar. The black shroud she had thrown over her hair shielded her view, but she knew Cromwell was still kneeling in a pew towards the back to the chapel. They had shared a weighted look when he had entered, both recognizing that should Henry never wake they would need each other more than ever.

They had not been on the best of terms as of late, but Anne knew she had Cromwell to thank for her crown and for the continued support of the commons for Elizabeth. They had disagreed about many things throughout their beneficial friendship, but Anne knew that if she found herself regent until Elizabeth or (please god) her unborn son came of age, she could rely on Cromwell's political genius.

But she didn't want that. She didn't want to rely on Cromwell or her father or anyone else to hold the country for her. She wanted her husband. She wanted to watch her children grow with Henry, knowing they were loved and safe and secure. She needed her husband there to protect her and pave the way for their children, she didn't want to spend the rest of her life fighting for their rightful places on the throne. Tears began to well in her eyes again and she furiously scrubbed them away. She had crumbled in her rooms, allowing her emotions to get the best of her in front of her ladies. It was dangerous to her child and her position to fall apart like that. If Henry truly did not make it...she needed to be strong.

 _God be with me..._

The door to the chapel slammed open, startling her again and she visibly jumped, whipping around to find one of her ladies- Bess Holland panting in the doorway. Immediately Cromwell, who was much closer to the church doors, stood and grabbed Bess' arm.

"Have a care, Mistress Holland" he growled lowly as Anne stood and made her way up the aisle. "Her majesty must not be distressed further..."

"Is it the king?" Anne interrupted. "Has he woken?" She could hear the shake in her voice and willed herself to calm. Her future hung on the next words from this woman's mouth.

Luckily, Bess beamed up at her mistress. "Yes, your majesty! His grace woke not an hour ago and is said to be coherent, if a little shaken. He is being brought to the castle now." Immediately, Anne felt her knees give way again, this time in relief. Cromwell caught her easily as muttered prayers of thanksgiving poured from her lips.

"Oh, thank you Jesus..." tears were slipping unbidden down her cheeks as she sagged in relief in Cromwell's arms. He seemed unsure of how to handle her, but she could see the panic ebbing in his own eyes as their fears melted. "He is being brought in now?" Anne quizzed Bess who nodded emphatically.

A sudden bout of energy surged through the queen as she pushed away from Cromwell and past her lady. Her heels clicked loudly on the stones as she rushed through the great hall. She barely registered the calls from Cromwell to slow down or the shocked faces of the lords and ladies watching their queen run past them. She slowed only slightly on the stairs, one hand laying heavily on the banister and the other cradling her belly-the only thing that could make anything worse were to be for her to fall. Her feet were as quick and sure as ever though as she made her way to the landing and shoved the door to the main courtyard where a royal retinue was just arriving. Unworried about her frantic appearance or any protocol, her gaze raked over the clambering crowd until they narrowed in on him.

 _Her Henry._

 **A/N: Another slightly short chapter, and I apologize for that. Hoping to get out the next chapter quickly for you guys~!**


	6. Chapter 6

Henry was detested looking weak in front of his court and when Linacre had insisted he ride back to the castle in this rickety cart, he had almost refused. Yet the second he had stood on his own feet off the table they had laid him, his knees had given out beneath him. He knew even leaning heavily on Charles, he would never make it the long way up to the castle, let alone manage the stairs to his chambers. So he grudgingly allowed them to secure him on the cart and begin their progression.

As he rode, he sank deeper into his reflection. He had been such a fool-hoping to regain some rigor from his youth. He was not a young man anymore and he had never really lived very healthily. That combined with the empty royal nursery played into a dangerous hand for any king. He cursed himself for his folly. How dare he risk his kingdom's future on such a worthless endeavor? What if he had died? What if he had left his little princess defenseless until Anne's unborn son came of age? Hell, what if the stress of it all made Anne lose the child completely?

The thought struck him even heavier than before. _Anne..._ He had inwardly thought to dismiss her if she had failed him again. Replace her with another who would be calmer, sweeter, and more docile. God, what a fool he was. He lowered his head into his hands, sending a prayer for forgiveness. Anne was his true wife and queen-theirs was a love that had turned his life upside down. She was not perfect, by any stretch, but how dare he even think to cast her aside. Especially large with his child! God had seen fit to punish those thoughts with this fall-to show him that he had been a fool indeed to think that some pretty noblewoman that had caught his eye could ever replace his gracious queen. Now his reckless behaviour could cost him all he hoped for. The moment they arrived at the castle he would send Linacre to inspect Anne and make sure she was taken care of. If she lost his son because of this he would never forgive himself.

His musings drifted to Jane-the source of all of this anguish. She was lovely, to be true, but didn't scripture call the devil sweet-faced? She had tempted him, pulling him away from his wife and child in a way that no mistress ever had before. When he had first seen her, angelic in white, he had been bewitched. He had brought her to him, placed her in Anne's household and had even gone so far as to place her family in prominent places at court. He had been pandering to her and her family ever since and they had all been subtly trying to ensnare him. Hadn't that rogue, Thomas Seymour been talking about Anne's faults just the other day? Calling her a harpy? Henry was ashamed at the memory of him clapping the snake on the back good-naturedly and laughing with him at the expense of his queen. They had all been painting Anne in such a poor light-only highlighting how different their Jane was. And Jane herself...the girl may have been innocent enough, but God had clearly spoken. No, he would forsake all others save his wife until she had delivered a healthy son, no matter how long it took. Anne was his lawful, true wife and he had fought to have her. She would give him a son, in time.

The cart was wheeled into the courtyard and came to a jolting halt. Charles, who rode by his side, instantly leapt to assist his king. He and a few other groomsmen were helping him to his feet when a commotion distracted them all. Henry turned just in time to see a flurry of courtiers bowing towards their frantic queen.

Anne, white-faced and panting, had rushed into the open space. Henry watched her as she scanned the crowd, panic obvious in her red-rimmed eyes. He observed her in that moment before she found him- the swelling under her eyes, the messiness of her hair. Ever since he had elevated her to queenship she had always looked impeccable. It was one of the things that even when she showed her temper or interfered in matters she had no business in had always comforted him. She always looked the part of a beautiful queen. She did not look like that now though.

No, now she looked like something else entirely. She looked like a woman who had almost lost the man she loved.

When their eyes finally met, it was as if everyone else in the courtyard disappeared. Only the two of them were left. The relief and love in her face was palpable as she moved towards him, ignoring their courtiers. He watched her come to him and shrugged off Charles' help, no matter the pain. When she finally came within reach, fresh tears falling from those lovely eyes, he reached out and crushed her to his chest. He pulled her close, savoring the sweet smell of her lush dark curls and loving the warmth that overcame him having her in his arms. It did not matter to him that his court was looking on and whispering. In this moment he didn't care about being a king. He only wanted to comfort the woman in his arms-his true queen. The queen God had chosen for him.


	7. Chapter 7

Jane splashed the cold water on her face to wash away the dried tears and took a shuddering breath. She gripped the edges of the table to support herself as she tried desperately to wipe the image of the king- unmoving, bleeding into the dirt where he had fallen. Jane had been so pleased that he had asked for her favor in the joust, as her father and brothers certainly had been. The interaction they had shared was the first true courting they had and it had set Jane's cheeks aflame. It had been everything that Thomas had promised her those weeks ago when they had still been at Wolf Hall. Before everything had occurred.

She wouldn't lie to herself, she had not envisioned a future for herself as a consort to the king of England. She had only hoped to make a marriage to some wealthy nobleman that would help her bring prestige to her family. But then that had been when good Queen Katherine sat the throne, not the Boleyn whore. Ever since Anne had a crown placed on her head, the country had been thrown into torment. Sweet Princess Mary had been cast away from her father and loving mother-sent to wait on some bastard. Good men had been sent to the block for daring to speak against the harlot. And the king himself had been bewitched by her dark magic- defying even his holiness, the pope, in his quest to have her.

When the king had first seen Jane that night when he had stayed at Wolf Hall, everyone could see the reaction her presence had caused in him. It had only been a week later that summons came from court to the whole Seymour family and her father and brother's had rejoiced. They had all known in an instant what such a summons really meant. That he had seen Jane and was intending to court her. But Jane herself had been reluctant, not wanting to be mistress to a man (any man!) she was not wed to. Thomas had come to her that night and brushed her long, flaxen hair and had whispered such sweet promises in her ear to convince her. About how Jane could win the kings love and possibly rise to the highest station in the land. She could be queen if she played it right and even Jane had been swayed by the thought. Anne Boleyn was nothing better than a upjumped harlot sitting in Katherine's place. She had seduced a loving husband away from his innocent wife and child and corrupted the kingdom as a result. Jane had long thought King Henry deserved a kind, virtuous queen that could guide him in the right direction, away from heresy and back to the Holy Church. She had never hoped it would be her until that night that Henry had come to Wolf Hall. Between Thomas' sweet words and her father's delighted look of pride, she found herself relenting.

Now, however, her father's normally jolly, red face was stark white. He was reclining on the chaise in the Seymour rooms while Jane's mother, Lady Margaery, was fretting around him like a concerned mother hen.

"I'm sure the king will be well again..." Margaery was murmuring in soothing tones, rubbing small circles into her husbands hands.

"We better hope so." Tom muttered from the window enclosure, where he was looking unconcerned, examining his nails as if it did not matter so much to him. "Can you imagine if that witch is declared regent? The Boleyn snake will chase us from court before his body cools."

"Watch yourself, you insolent boy!" Jane's mother snapped. "It's treason you are speaking. We are in a precarious enough position as is!" Thomas sent her a scathing look and John patted his wife's hand to calm her.

"No, he's right, Margaery. Edward is trying to secure our positions now, but if that woman gains the regency, then it will not matter what he does. It would be just our luck that the moment we gain the king's favor, it's all ripped away from us. God damn it!" His loud swearing had Jane flinching.

"It's not so bad, is it?" Margaery quizzed. "It's not like she actually did anything the harlot could object to? It's not like she is his mistress."

"Oh please, they all know what was intended..." Tom growled.

Jane tried desperately to fade into the background, but suddenly all eyes in the room were on her. She had remembered walking back to her place in the crowd once she had given her favor to Henry. She had climbed the steps feeling overwhelmingly smug. She had Henry on the run for her and if she played it right, she could find herself on the throne of England. Yet then she had watched him fall and her hopes had fallen with him.

Thomas was right, Anne knew. Her icy gaze had drilled into Jane when she had been introduced into her household. And if she held any power...Jane shuddered. Lady Margaery stood and made her way to Jane, taking her hands with a kind smile.

"Be calm, dear. The king will wake soon and all this worry will be for nothing." She smoothed Jane's pale blonde hair away from her face and tipped her chin up, surveying her face before turning to her husband and son.

"Mother is right, Jane," Thomas said grudgingly, standing and walking to the pair. "The king will not die this way. He will rise again and it will be as if it never happened." He placed what should have been a comforting hand on her shoulder, but his next words took the sentiment out of it. "But you'll have to ensnare him or we'll be lost. You've done well so far, but you must keep going. Keep bringing him on and away from the whore. And you must never yield. Once she births her little bastard or loses the babe, we will know how to play this."

A commotion from outside their chamber door drew all of their attention though and Jane's nerves made another leap.

Thomas, quick as a viper, had the door open and had caught the sleeve of a servant boy running past. "What news?!" he demanded of the youth who struggled in his grasp.

"The king!" the boy panted, freeing himself from Jane's brother's grasp. "He's woken and is arriving now in the courtyard!" the boy ran with the amassing crowd towards the great hall and Thomas turned with a smile.

"You see, Jane. We still have a chance! _You_ still have a chance!" he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek and rushed to follow the crowd, along with the rest of her family.

Jane, however, hesitated and made her way to the window. She could see the courtyard below where a procession of carts and courtiers was trickling in. And she had the perfect view when a few moments later her king, the man she was set to seduce, wrapped his arms around his enchanting queen as she rushed to him. She watched the pair for a moment-this couple that had overturned the natural order just to be with each other. Their love, while controversial, had burned brighter than any royal marriage throughout Christendom. She watched him run his hands through her raven locks and wipe the tears from her face tenderly as she spoke with him, probably professing her undying love and joy that he was well. She watched the interaction with a sense of detachment, knowing that she would have to find a way to come between them. But determination made her resolute. There was no way that Anne Boleyn would be mother to the next king of England. No way that King Henry was meant to part from the Holy Church. Jane guiding him away from that witch was her fate. It was God's will.

 **A/N: I had to rewrite this a few times to get it where I wanted it-so thank you for your patience!**


	8. Chapter 8

Thomas Boleyn looked on at the dancing courtiers with a smug grin on his face. The king had insisted that the festivities go ahead as planned, despite his injury, though he himself would retire early to focus on recovery. The modest feast was more muted than normal, due to the lack of royal presence, yet it was still merry enough with everyone feeling palpable relief.

But it was not the court's actions that made Thomas Boleyn smile. No it was those whose presence was lacking. Not only had Henry excused himself for a private dinner, he had extended that invitation to his wife, Boleyn's daughter. Anne and Henry would have a few intimate moments away from all distractions, something that had not happened since Elizabeth's birth. The fact that it was Anne who the king turned to in his moment of pain and fear showed that not all was lost quite yet. He might pursue that little Seymour mouse, but it was the queen that still held his heart. Once Anne delivered the next King of England, Thomas Boleyn would have it all.

As he made his way though the dancers, Boleyn made a mental note to keep a close eye on his daughter, at least for the next few days. The shock of Henry's fall could not have been good for her unborn child and everything hung on her keeping the babe in her womb. She must not exert herself unduly. Irritation crept into his thoughts at his infuriating daughter. She had been unable to keep poisonous jealousy out of her thoughts and seemed incapable of thinking of the future. Just the evening before, she had been pondering how to send the Seymour girl from court. She was acting like a silly girl, not a queen.

If only she would act with sense! It did not matter who the king diverted himself with while Anne was heavy with child. The only thing that mattered was a successful pregnancy ending in a healthy prince. Anything else would be a failure that neither he, nor the king, would tolerate. Anne was not a milkmaid to simper and pout around a husband for being unfaithful. She was a queen. Emotions had no place in a royal marriage. And it was high time that Anne learn that. He should have ensured it back during their courtship when she still listened to her father above all, but she had fallen in love with the King, ruining his plans for her. Yes, it had all ended well in the end, but now she had it in her mind that he should cleave to her and only her and Henry would not stand for that. Anne must learn. Jane Seymour would not matter in the slightest when there was a Prince of Wales in the nursery.

As if on cue with his thoughts, the pale slut entered the great hall in that moment with her brothers. Boleyns smile widened at the sight of her red rimmed eyes and the look of uneasiness in Edward Seymour's eyes. They who had been looking so smug as the king rode out with a Seymour favor under his breastplate. Now they looked like hares without bramble cover, fearful of the mighty hawk. Boleyn approached them with a smirk.

"Lord Edward, Sir Thomas... Lady Jane." he greeted with honeyed words and was delighted when all three sank into respectful bows. He was still father to the queen and wielded influence with the king. It was good to see the Seymour brothers acknowledging that. And it was good to see the leap of fear in the mouse's eyes now that the cat was near. "Have you seen the king?" he asked pleasantly, knowing full well none of them had.

"Not yet." Edward gritted out, looking like he had been sucking on lemons. Even the cocky Thomas looked irritated. "I trust His Majesty is doing well?"

"Quite well." Thomas purred. "The queen is tending to him now and I am sure within a few days, they both will return to court. Why, Lady Jane, is everything alright? You look quite pale!" he exclaimed with mock sympathy. Indeed, Jane's eyes had brimmed with fresh tears and she turned from Boleyn into her brother's shoulder. Thomas practically growled at Boleyn before leading his sister away.

"She was greatly distressed at the sight of the king's fall, Lord Rochford." Edward said coolly, as they watched Jane exit the hall. "As I'm sure Her Majesty was when she first heard...such a shame, in her condition." Boleyn locked eyes with the Seymour rat. "Hopefully the shock does not cause any...unfortunate accidents. Given the queen's history, I would hate to see anything happen that would put her or her child in any danger."

Thomas felt the blood drain from his face before rage overcame him. "It is treason to speak so, Lord Seymour" he hissed angrily before a hand clamped down on his shoulder. He whipped around to see his son, George sending him a measured look before he gave Edward Seymour that charming, Boleyn smile.

"I'm sure with the king's avid attention and the care of the best midwives in the land, my sister need not worry," George said, dampening the smug look on Edward's face. "I thank you for your continuing concern. We will send her and the king the Seymour family's well wishes." Edward nodded stiffly before moving past them, brushing George's shoulder slightly on his way past.

"That dog is utterly insufferable" Thomas growled once the man was out of earshot. George nodded.

"But harmless." Thomas glared at his son.

"How can you say that? As long as the king is infatuated with that little mouse, the whole family is a threat. You heard the way he spoke about your sister!" he hissed lowly.

"Who is the king with?" George whispered, but didn't wait for a response. "Anne. He's not even looked at that girl since he woke from his fall. It's only been Anne he wants at his side. She is his only concern. She should be ours as well. Be calm, father. All will be well. Soon a Prince of Wales will be in the nursery and Anne will be untouchable. She and us Boleyns. You will be grandfather to the next king of England!"

Thomas nodded at his son's words, knowing that if Anne truly did birth a son, he could expect quite a reward from the king. And once the king did die, Thomas Boleyn would be perfectly placed to have the new king's ear. Power was all but his. But Edward Seymour's words sank into his mind and he felt cold. It all hung in the balance for him and for Anne.

 **A/N: I know everyone is dying to see the ultimate moment when the Seymour's know they have lost the king's favor! Forgive me for continuing to delay the inevitable! Don't worry, it's coming. Keep in mind, no one knows how he feels at this point. I love your reviews! Please continue as they fill me with inspiration!**


	9. Chapter 9

Henry smiled as he observed her. Anne was clearly weighing her options as she stared intensely at the cards in her hands. He watched her delicate fingers play with the edge of one card before her eyebrows furrowed and she pinched another, pulling it from her deck and slamming it with conviction on the table.

Just as he suspected. His small smile split into a wide grin as he laid his own deck on the table, clearly a superior play and he laughed as he swept up his winnings. Anne gave out a playful groan, throwing her own cards down and glaring at him.

"You're a cheat." she sniffed, causing him to smirk at her. He plucked a golden ring from his prize and slid it along the table towards her.

"Will you still complain if I use my hard earned fortune to decorate my beautiful wife?" he murmured provocatively, pleased when she flashed those gorgeous eyes at him and slipped the ring on her finger, smiling.

"It will begin to make a difference." she teased, giving him a smirk of her own.

He was glad to have her here with him while he recovered. It had been a hard few days, no one could deny that, but Anne's presence had made it bearable. She had been a consistently warm source of joy in his pain and had always been there to comfort him even as they had tore into the wound on his leg. He had been ashamed for her to see him in such a state, but would never consider sending her away. The fall had been dangerous enough, but he would live with the pain in his leg for the rest of his life. It only succeeded in aging him further and the thought was sobering. But he knew that instead of chasing his youth as he had been trying to do with the Godforsaken joust, he instead needed to focus on the now. As soon as he was back on his feet in truth, he wanted to bring little Elizabeth to court for a visit as well. His bright little princess never failed to lift his spirits. And Lord knew he had much to worry about.

His near death experience had only served to remind him of the importance of securing his kingdom. The only way for him to do so would be to fortify his marriage to Anne and therefore ensure a smooth succession for Elizabeth and, pray God, for any son born from their union. He had been so hellbent on doing just that when Elizabeth was a babe, but as months past without a prince in the nursery, Henry had lost his steam. He had even blamed Anne for the steps he had taken. Blaming her for Moore's stubbornness and the countries unwillingness to see what was needed to provide a safe, secure England. He had been too harsh with her-he could see that now. It was not her fault that others were adamantly supporting Katherine. Refusing to believe that it was Anne, not any other, that held the future of England.

He grew angry just thinking about how as he had laid unconscious, the lords of the realm jumped at the opportunity to take power away from his legitimate heir. But his anger faded to shame as he remembered that he himself had even considered replacing his true queen with another. He gazed at Anne as she reshuffled the cards before them and wondered what in God he had been thinking.

Anne was his true wife and queen. She was willful and prideful at times, it was true, but she was also passionate and strong, not to mention beautiful and intelligent. She was a jewel at his court and he had been a fool to think that a lesser woman could ever take her place. His thoughts drifted to the Seymour girl. Her fair beauty had enraptured him at Wolf Hall and he had been bewitched ever since. He had thought of her often and had begun to scorn his true wife, fantasizing about Jane instead. It was as if all of Anne's faults became magnified with Jane around and he had even imagined his life if he had Jane as his queen. She was pretty enough, for sure-in a pale, fair, clean English way. But she was nothing like the stunning magnetism of Anne. And while pretty, she seemed rather dull and simple. He could not believe such a woman could keep him interested past a fortnight-let alone a life together. No, the devil had brought him Jane Seymour and had clouded his vision of the rightful path. She was a curse.

He glanced at Anne's swollen belly and sent a prayer to God that his leg be punishment enough for his failure. That he not punish him in the ultimate way-taking the child from Anne's womb.

"How are you feeling, sweetheart?" he asked, concern laced in his tone.

Anne gave him a weak smile, knowing exactly what he was asking, and placed a hand on her abdomen. He knew she had been wracked with worry as well. "We are well, Henry," she murmured softly.

"Good." He rose, pressing a kiss to her forehead before excusing himself with his apologies and promises to see her at dinner.

As he left his wife's chambers, heavy thoughts weighing him down, he steeled himself for what he must do next. He walked until he approached his set of chambers and found an abandoned council room. He drew one of his ushers aside, muttering instructions.

"Fetch me the Lady Jane Seymour..."


	10. Chapter 10

_You must ensnare him..._

 _Our fate depends on you, Jane..._

 _If only she had lost the babe..If you get another chance, you must take it!_

Jane's families words swirled in her mind as she followed the king's usher. She had be sure to make herself as beautiful as possible-even going so far as to slip into the gown he had first seen her in that night at Wolfhall. She knew she looked as innocent and virtuous as when he had first fallen for her and she knew that it was this moment that would change her fate. The king hadn't spoken to her since he woke almost a week ago and Jane had begun to lose hope. But she chided herself gently, following the usher through the maze of Whitehall palace. He was calling for her now, probably going to apologize for his lengthy silence on the matter and beg her forgiveness.

She was lead into a deserted council chamber, housed only by the king. Her love sat obviously uncomfortably, his leg propped up in front of him to soothe the pain he must be feeling. In an instant, her heart went out to him and she approached, after sinking into a delicate, pretty curtsy. She caught his eyes darkening with lust as she sank before him and bit a smile. All hope was not lost.

"Lady Jane..." he murmured gently, remorse evident in his tone. He tried to rise, but the pain in his leg must have been crippling as he sank back into his chair.

"Your Majesty..." she purred, sinking again to her knees when she reached him, boldly taking his hand in hers. "I've been so worried. I praise God for protecting you..." her words did not have the desired effect, as he seemed to wince at them, but she could still see the desire in his eyes. She pressed forward, bringing his fingers to her lips and pressing a delicate kiss to them, knowing that the sight of her, the picture of maidenly subservience, must be appealing to him. She knew she must be the opposite of his haughty, imperious _wife_. It was her best chance of ensuring her success.

...

Henry knew it would be hard to have the conversation with Jane, but he had no idea it would be quite so difficult to focus on the task at hand. He had steeled himself as he had waited for her-knowing that it was the least he could do to talk to her in person about sending her back to her family home. Knowing that it was God's work, showing him that Anne was his true wife and queen and that it wasn't Jane's fault that he had been musing of her sitting beside him.

He had to remain strong. But then she had entered the room, looking like the angel he had envisioned when he first saw her-all honeycomb sweetness and purity. The concern on her face moved him as she rushed to his side and his rehearsed words had stuck in his throat.

Her sweet smell overcame his senses and he felt his tongue grow heavy and his heartbeat quicken as he watched her, kneeling at his feet, worship clear in her eyes. She was the image of gentleness and womanly obedience. His hand absentmindedly rose to her cheek, brushing the petal soft skin there before moving a silky lock of escaped hair behind her ear.

Perhaps he didn't need to send her back to Wolfhall. Perhaps it wasn't necessary to remove her from court and send her from his sights. He had learned his lesson, hadn't he? Anne would remain his wife and queen-he knew that it was God's will to see her son sit the throne of England, but did that mean he could never look to a pretty maiden for company again? Even when Anne was heavy with child and unable to satisfy his urges by performing her wifely duties? He watched the woman before him, clearly enamored and willing to do whatever it took to please him and felt a painfully strong thud of lust.

He was king, was he not? It was his right to take a mistress. God had shown him he was a fool to even think of replacing Anne as his queen, but that did not mean he could not enjoy Jane. He felt a smile come to his lips as his logic clicked into place. Yes, he could certainly enjoy Jane without risking Anne's position. The trick would be to convince her family that it would be in their best interest to relinquish Jane's maidenhead to him, even though he could not offer her an honest offer for her hand. He would freely reward the Seymour family for their sacrifices and do what was needed to be sure Jane herself was not on the receiving side of scorn for becoming his mistress.

It was these thoughts he kept in mind as he allowed his hand to cradle Jane's face, giving her a gentle smile. "Come closer, Lady Jane...here, sit on my lap" he gestured to his outstretched knee and watched with satisfaction as she hesitated just long enough to tease him before rising and doing as he asked. Just because his desired outcome had changed, didn't mean that he didn't still love the hunt. He wanted her to be just as she was before- though eventually he would want her to succumb to his desires. But as she pressed herself closer to him and he allowed his fingers to trail on the feather soft skin on her neck, he watched her eyes flutter shut with pleasure. He knew she would succumb...eventually. She would be a welcome distraction once Anne began her lying in and he was no longer able to spend as much time with her. Especially since it seemed as if Linacre was to prescribe she begin her lying in much earlier with all the stress she had faced recently.

Yes, the chase would be a very welcome distraction. He gazed up at the woman on his lap and breathed in the scent of her. "May I kiss you, Lady Jane?" he wanted to feel her, to know that she would be receptive to his advances. He had been willing to do all that was proper before, but now everything had changed. He wanted her as a man wants a woman, in a way that was not honorable, and he wanted to see if she would let him have her. Her timid nod gave him permission and in moments he had his hands wrapped in her silky hair, pulling her lips to his.

He was so lost in the kiss that he barely recognized when the door at the other end of the chamber opened. Didn't even realize the gravity of his actions until he heard the wail of horror.

 **A/N: I know it's short and ends in an awful cliffhanger-but I hope you guys enjoy and aren't too upset with me! Please review!**


	11. Chapter 11

She knew that he could not have gone far... Henry had only just left her when she received a message from Hatfield. Her precious little daughter had caught a slight fever. While Anne was sure there was nothing to be unduly worried about, she wanted to have Linacre sent immediately to insure there was no threat to the princess. She knew the doctor would protest leaving Anne in this time of vulnerability, but Anne was sure she could persuade her husband to take the risk if it meant caring for their daughter. She strolled though the halls, pondering where he could have disappeared. His ushers had assured her he was not in council meeting or in his own chambers. She had not seen him in the great hall and no one had seen him in the gardens either. She chewed on her lip, wondering if it would just be easier to leave a message with the ushers to have him call on her as soon as he was found. How could they have lost the king?

Just as she was about to give up, she turned the corner and saw a pair of Henry's sentries guarding the doorway of a council chamber. Pleased, she moved forward and used her status as queen to ignore the sentries and push the door open.

Oh how she wished she had not.

The scene before her startled her. Henry...her husband who had _just_ left her with sweet promises to see her later, was intertwined with that blonde slut, Jane Seymour. Her lady was perched on Henry's lap, their mouths fused together and limbs encircling each other. They were engaged in a passionate embrace, rivaling any even she had shared with him.

She stood for half a heartbeat, stunned by the sight before her knees gave out beneath her.

"Oh my god...Oh my god! What is this? What is _THIS_?" she wailed, catching the door to steady herself. She felt her mind spinning as it tried to process what she had just seen and her breath hitched painfully in her throat. She didn't even register Jane leaping from her seat and the fearful expression on her face, let alone the shock and horror in Henry's eyes. She clenched her teeth as rage consumed her and her nails dug into the unyielding wood of the door.

Propelled forward by her anger, she lashed out, slamming the door closed and storming towards her faithless husband. "Just when my belly is doing it's business I find you _wenching_ with Mistress Seymour!"

Henry had jumped to his feet, despite his injury and stepped forward to catch her in his arms, pulling her tight against him. But she refused to fall into his embrace when those very arms had just been around another. As she struggled against him, he turned to Jane, who was hiding behind the chair they had been occupying.

"Get out! Now!" He snarled, the anger in his voice surprising even Anne. But the slut did not argue as she fled quickly, leaving the royal couple alone to process the doom that he might have brought on.

Before she was even gone, Henry had turned his attention fully to Anne, still trying to hold her still as she shook in anger. "Shh, sweetheart please..." He tried to soothe, willing her to be still, for the sake of the child, she was sure.

But Anne would not have it. "No!" she pushed at him again, suddenly desperate to be away from him. How dare he?! She had hoped that he would have the sense to keep his whore away from her, even if he must have her. It had been too much to hope that Anne would be enough for him, especially heavy with child. It had been a hard lesson that had been beaten into her over the years. But he should have had a care to keep his trysts out of the palace. Though that hadn't done enough to settle her nerves either... Still...

"Shh...sweetheart stop. Stop..." His words were gentle as he reached for her again, urging her to still herself.

"Why?" she wailed, finally letting him wrap his arms around her, her strength leaving her. But as the rage subsided, it left pure, unadulterated despair in it's wake. "Why did you have to do this?" She begged him, knowing she was truly asking a million questions. Why wasn't she enough? Why did he have to shame her in this way? What had happened to the devoted man she had fallen in love with? She knew that when she failed to produce a son quickly, that he had been disappointed, but how could their love had faded so fast? Tears coursed down her cheeks as she sobbed against him.

Henry murmured softly into her ear, stroking her belly with one hand and brushing the fallen strands of hair away from her face with the other. His ministrations were as tender as he had been to her in months and Anne willed her body to relax and her tears to cease as she settled in his embrace. In slow, deliberate motions Henry moved to pick her up, as one would a child, and carried her back to her rooms. Luckily he took a relatively abandoned route and if anyone saw them and wondered what had so upset the queen, they did not ask. Once they made it to the queen's apartments, there was a flurry of movement as her ladies rushed to take her from Henry. As they led her towards her bedchamber, she chanced a glance back at her husband, knowing she would see anger there. Knowing that he would blame her if her tantrum cost her their son.

But Henry's face held no anger or resentment. Only concern and remorse were in his eyes when he looked at her.

Anne just hoped it wasn't all just for the child's sake.

 **A/N: Had a few complaints come through that it seemed out of character with the story for Henry to go back and try to take Jane as a mistress. That it was 'compromising the whole plot just to add drama'. I'm disappointed that it is coming off that way as I feel like it would not be like Henry in the way I see him to now act like a perfect husband. He is known for constantly believing that what he does is right, no matter the consequences to others and for being absolutely single-sighted and selfish. I also feel like it would make for a relatively boring story (not trying to bash anyone who also tried this challenge, I'm sure it could work, just not for mine). While I love that people are so invested in the story that they care so much about Anne and how I write her, and I am genuinely sorry for the pain she is going through in this chapter-it is all for the idea that I have for this story. Trust me, Jane is going to get what's coming to her. And Henry will too.**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Guys I'm so sorry...**

How could he have let this happen... Henry sat in his chambers, amidst the debris he had thrown about when he had first entered, with his head in his hands. How could he have been such a fool? He had blatantly disregarded God's message to him and now he was being punished.

The moment he had heard her cry of despair, his blood had run cold. He could still see the pain and horror etched into Anne's face as she had registered what she had seen. He had hurt her gravely with this, he knew. He had gone to her side in a moment and had wrapped her in his arms, trying his best to soothe her. He had gently carried her to her chambers, glaring at all the courtiers who looked on with confusion and intrigue written on their faces. He had placed her on her ornate, feather bed and muttered soft, loving words until she slept, desperate to calm her...

But he was too late. The damage had been done.

When one of her ladies approached his chambers only a few hours later and had coldly announced that the queen had begun to bleed and that Doctor Linacre was with her now, the accusation had been in her eyes.

It was his fault.

Now he sat, having torn the chambers apart, smashing the chairs, throwing the dishes, and shattering the mirrors before his energy had broken. His anger bled out of him as his child bled out of Anne. He sank to his knees, knowing there was nothing he could do now to recall his actions. Shame overwhelmed him and for the first time in a long time, tears fell from his eyes.

He cried, lost in his despair and shame as he mourned the child that he had murdered with his actions before a thought hit him like lightening.

 _Anne..._

If he was feeling hopeless and was lost in anguish, his queen must be feeling it ten-fold. He sprang to his feet and threw open the double doors, startling the gathered courtiers. He ignored their honeyed words of concern as he pushed past them and rushed to his wife's side.

His child may be lost, but his wife, his Anne, was still here and needed him.

He burst into her chamber and barely registered how her ladies and the midwifes had flinched, their eyes darting to him fearfully as they moved to clear his path. They all thought he would be angry, coming to rebuke his innocent wife. Biting down his irritation that they would think so of him, he ignored them, rushing through to her private chambers. He could hear her pitiful sobs from here and it almost unmanned him. Weak at the knees, he turned the corner and she fell into his sight.

She looked broken. Her skin was paler than he had ever seen, with sweat making her nightgown and tangled hair cling to it. Her arms were wrapped around her middle, now horribly flat, as if she were clinging to the remainents of their child. Tears continued to course down her blotchy cheeks, though as her ladies curtsied and mutely greeted him, she tried to choke down her sobs. Her swollen, water-logged eyes turned towards him and Henry was not surprised to see blame in her defensive gaze, though it still wounded him.

He was in unfamiliar territory. As king, it was not often that he had to be held accountable for his actions. Especially to his wife. When he had kept mistresses before, he had not for a moment thought he would ever need to apologize. Never to Katherine and not even to Anne, who reacted so much stronger when he strayed from the marriage bed. He had even been irritated that she cause such a fuss, thinking it was a sign that she was unfit to sit the throne he had raised her to. It was his God given right to take a mistress, especially when his own wife was pregnant and could not satisfy him and for her to chastise him was not something he'd tolerate.

At least that is what he had believed. But hadn't God blatantly shown him that he was wrong? Punished him first for thinking Anne was not his true wife by taking away his health and now punishing him for straying from his marriage vows by taking away his son?

Crippled by guilt and shame, he didn't even care that he was not alone with Anne and that there were witnesses to his abasement. He quickly came to her bedside and sank to his knees, grasping at her hands and bowing his head in disgrace. His movement startled everyone in the room, even Anne, who gaped at him prostrating himself before her humbly.

"My love...oh forgive me, my love..." He murmured, pressing kisses to her fingers. "I'm so sorry. So sorry, my darling. Please, forgive me!" He glanced up at the sound of her sniffling and saw fresh tears bubbling in her eyes, though the anger that had been there before was gone. Now she was just consumed in sorrow and he wasted no time pulling her into his arms. Her sobbing began again in earnest and he quickly motioned to the servants to clear the room.

They were quickly left alone and he pulled her back down to the pillows, brushing his hands over her shoulders and her hair. As they settled into the great bed, they both let their tears fall as they found whatever comfort they could in each others arms.

 **This was hard to write and I know it was hard to read and I'm sorry. Please know that while I always had the intention of Henry paying the ultimate price for his actions, it was still hard to put forth as it was poor Anne who would face the worst of it. If you don't hate me now (which I understand if you do), I promise the next few chapters will make you happy. Thank you for your kind reviews.**


	13. Chapter 13

With his wife recovering, it fell to Henry to inform the court of the tragic news. He settled for a simple prayer to be said at court as well as across the country for the lost babe as well as prayers for Her Majesties quick recovery. He thought about adding a line about hoping she would fall pregnant again soon, but quickly abandoned the idea. He didn't want anyone thinking he blamed Anne for what had happened to their child. He felt that praying for her to swiftly conceive again was insinuating his own impatience. He didn't want anyone even thinking that. It had been his fault that she had lost the babe and Linacre had said that her body needed time to recover. God had proven that Anne was his true wife, the only woman he need to treat with affection and love. A son... _any_ other children would come with time. Right now he needed to focus on Anne's health and the wellbeing of their marriage.

He had hurt her deeply, he could see that now. He had once promised that he would never stop loving her, that London would have to melt into the Thames first. While she had never truly left his heart, it could not be denied that his feelings for her had waned as the years had ticked by without a prince in the nursery. He had torn his country apart to marry her and then had blamed her when the country was torn. It had been his decision-why had he blamed her for the consequences?

But he could not dwell on these thoughts now. He had a lifetime to make it up to his wife. No, now he must turn his attention to a much more pressing matter.

When he had called for the Seymour family, he expected them to attend to him at once. It had been almost an hour and his already short patience was waning quickly. Yet when the knock came and the family paraded in, it was obvious what had taken them so long. The Seymours, never known for being a particularly wealthy family, entered the chambers dripping in jewels and the finest cloths. He took in their appearances and couldn't help the disgust rising in his throat. All these riches came from him when he had been plotting to raise Jane to the throne. Such a fool he had been-this family was nothing special. Little more than base commoners at best. He saw their poorly concealed smiles and felt a cold rage settle in his stomach. They thought their fortunes made now that his child had been lost. He looked at Jane, hoping to see remorse and shame, hoping his image of the pure maiden had not been a complete facade, but he was disappointed again. The girl was decked in cloth of gold, shimmering pearls looped around her neck, her rich blonde hair hanging in pretty curls underneath a pearl studded headpiece. She looked beautiful and the rose blush in her cheeks was of pure joy. She clearly thought he would ask for her hand this very day-as his wife and queen was still recovering from her hellish miscarriage caused by the lady herself. He could see the triumph in her eyes as the whole family made their bows to him in greeting.

What an absolute witch.

He left them in their bows, not inviting them to stand. The moments ticked by as an awkward silence settled in the room. He could see their smiles waning and their muscles shivering from strain, but he still did not tell them to rise. Sir John chanced a questioning glace up and met the king's furious glare. Henry took immense satisfaction as he watched the color drain from the man's face as horror overcame his features. When finally the Lady Margaery looked about ready to topple over he snapped his fingers. "Rise." He snapped irritably. The family, drained of all the confidence they were overflowing with just a moment ago, rose hesitantly. Edward and Thomas had shared a weighted look and now kept their heads bowed, though Henry could see the younger clenching his jaw in frustration. Jane herself gazed at him, her blue eyes wide as saucers in confusion.

He looked at her, taking in her pretty face, her blonde hair, her milk skin and found himself disgusted at the sight of her. It was because of this siren that his son was gone and that his wife was bedridden and heart broken. How did he think this upjumped, ambitious seductress was a pure maiden fit to sit on the throne of England. He thought of the times her family had insisted on her honor, when she had plead on her virtue and wondered if there had ever been any truth to her. He closed his eyes to staunch the rage and shame flooding through him and took a deep breath.

"Your Majesty..?" Sir John prompted, causing the king's eyes to snap back open and glare at the traitors before him.

"Sir John, it has come to my attention that you and your family have taken advantage of my hospitality and gratitude. That you have been plotting against those set above you by God." It had been easy for Cromwell to find evidence of treason-the Seymours were not half as stealthy as they thought. They had left quite the paper trail in their efforts to diminish the queen's influence and lay the groundwork the push for Jane to supplant her. Now Henry had more than enough to send the lot of the to the scaffold if he so pleased. "How do you answer these charges?"

He bit down a satisfied smirk as the horror dawned on all their faces, Jane's eyes watering with tears as her gaze dropped to the floor.

"Your Majesty...I..." Sir John sputtered, clearly at a loss. This meeting was not what they had expected in the slightest. They had thought their fortunes made. Henry raised an eyebrow, but the man was at a loss for words.

"Your Majesty," the elder Seymour son spoke softly with a constrained voice. "I am sure I do not know of what you speak..."

"Do you deny conspiring against my wife, the queen?" Henry spoke almost calmly. "Deny plotting to seek her removal? Deny pushing her to the point of the loss of my child? Deny aiming to replace an anointed queen with your upstart sister?" Jane's chin snapped up at the insult and she audibly gasped, tears running down her cheeks. But Henry was unmoved.

Perhaps knowing the king would not make the accusation without proof of guilt, the Seymour family did not deny it. They stayed silent, except for Jane's soft sobbing, as they awaited judgement.

"You will leave my court." He ruled, mercifully. "You will begin your packing and be gone in the morning. Master Edward, you are removed from your place on my council. Ferry yourselves back to Wolf Hall and do not presume to return." He watched as reality dawned on them all, as it sank in that their future was being snatched from them. Lady Jane was now barely able to contain her sobs, but rather than be moved by them, he was irritated that she make such a fuss. How could he think such a slip of a girl could have been a queen? Could have ever replaced the strong, willful, fierce woman that was his wife? This girl was unfit even to serve Anne on bended knee.

As he thought of his precious wife, a thought occurred to him.

"Lady Jane." he clipped, and she raised her waterlogged eyes to him. "You must take your leave of Her Majesty, the queen. You are... _were_ one of her ladies in waiting. You will go and beg her leave and her forgiveness before you and your family depart from her court."

The girl looked ready to cry out and beg him for clemency before her brother snatched her hand and squeezed her back to her senses. She finally managed to nod her acceptance. Henry flicked his wrist, dismissing them.

He would never again let himself be swayed so strongly by a woman. He had risen Jane's family from obscurity and had honored her brothers with highly sought after positions and for what? For her pretty face? And how often had he risen unworthy men to unearned positions only for the fact they had pretty daughters or sisters? He thought back on his previous mistresses and wondered how many of them felt truly for him-had truly desired to lay with him. Had they all just been after what he could give them and their families? His pride bruised, he vowed to never again let a woman manipulate him. He had everything he needed in Anne, his true wife and queen.


	14. Chapter 14

Tears had not stopped running down her cheeks since the moment the king had delivered his sentence. The family had been escorted back to their rooms to pack as if they were prisoners. They had been paraded in front of the whole court, no doubt the whole of England knew of their shame by now. They had packed in almost silence, everyone shocked by how quickly their fortunes had fallen to ruin. Edward especially had been stony, undoubtedly furious to see his carefully planned future evaporate before him.

When word had first come that the king was summoning the whole family, they had all been elated. Even Edward had smiled and Thomas had kissed her cheek, winking and calling her his sweetest sister. The queen had lost her child and Jane was prime to take her place. Anne Boleyn's days were numbered and Henry was calling them to tell them.

Jane had happily scanned through her wardrobe, picking a beautiful gown of rich cloth of gold. She had wrapped iridescent pearls around her neck and had left her blond hair free around her shoulders. When she glanced in the mirror she was pleased, knowing she looked a pure, virginal, joyful maid. A woman worthy of stepping into Queen Catherine's shoes-God rest her soul. She would surely be better a better fit than the whore-Anne Boleyn. Jane had spent the whole trip to the king's apartments daydreaming about how she would change England. Of course she would bring the Princess Mary back to court and restore her to the line of succession. The Lady Elizabeth could go with her mother, wherever Henry decided to send her. Jane would not treat the child with unkindness, but would make it clear that the girl was illegitimate and would never take the throne. She shuddered at the thought of Anne's daughter wearing St Edward's crown. The chit of a girl would ruin England. No, it was God's will that a son of Jane's would rule and outside of that, Catherine's daughter.

It was these thoughts that brought her in front of the king with a bright smile on her lips. But then it had all gone wrong.

She was being sent from court, banished back to Wolf Hall. The king had looked at her with such disgust...such hatred. He had blamed her for the loss of his child. It had been her fault and there was no convincing him otherwise. She had lost the great gamble. Now what was to become of her?

Fresh tears spilled over and she abandoned her packing. Her brother watched as she made her way to the window, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"What happened?" he snarled, snatching her wrist and pulling her to face him. "You said he kissed you! That everything was still going to plan! Why then would he gather evidence against us?!"

"I don't know!" she snapped, ripping herself from his grip.

"He blames her for the loss of his son." Edward quietly spoke behind her and they both turned to him. "We underestimated his love for the whore. And overestimated his feelings for Jane." He turned to her and looked her up and down with a hard glare. "You didn't ruin yourself with him, right?" he asked coldly, making Jane gasp.

"No! I did everything you told me to do!"

"Are you sure?" Thomas asked, tauntingly. "I heard that the queen came upon you two as he had you laid out on a table..."

"No! It was just a kiss! It was innocent!" she protested. "And it was no more than you ordered from me! You told me to seduce him...to inflame the queen's jealousy! You _told_ me if she lost the babe, I would be queen!"

"Well now you are no better than a whore, sister. A whore with no future. What man would take you to wife, when it is commonly believed the king has had you and then discarded you?" Thomas' cruel words bit into her heart and she dissolved in tears again, knowing he was right.

Edward's lip curled in disgust at her emotional display and he threw a handkerchief at her. "Clean yourself up and go to the queen. We must be gone within the hour. I don't trust the king will be merciful if we do not hurry."

Jane wiped her tears away as her brothers returned to their packing, dreading the audience to come. She was not looking forward to going before that harlot and begging her leave. She knew Anne would be triumphant, confident now that her rival was being sent away. She grit her teeth and left her chambers. Jane only prayed that even if it wasn't for her, Henry would see what a harlot his false wife was. If Jane couldn't lead the king back to his rightful place at the Pope's feet, then perhaps another woman could. Soon the king would tire of the whore. Anne Boleyn would fall...it was only a matter of time.

As she walked, she could hear the whispers as the court gossiped about her. Henry had not been quiet about their expulsion from his favor and now they were all speculating as to why. The rumor that Thomas had heard was kind in comparison to others that were being circulated. All painting Jane as a whore who had caused the beloved queen to lose her child. The Seymours would be pariahs, when only a few weeks ago they were being courted by all. When she finally came to Anne's door, she was filled with shame and embarrassment and hatred.


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Forgive the delay! Hope you enjoy.**

Anne stared at Nan is shock.

"Who?" she sputtered, thinking she had misheard her lady.

"Mistress Seymour", Nan spat, fierce protectiveness swirling in her black gaze. Nan Saville had been one of the most loyal of Anne's friends and the queen did not doubt that she would be glad to scratch Jane Seymour's eyes out with one word from her mistress.

Anne blinked in surprise, one hand absentmindedly coming to cup her shrinking belly.

 _Had it not been for the little blonde slut, your son would still be growing within you._

She stood and quickly glanced in the mirror, deeming herself properly dressed and outfitted as her station demanded. She refused to step before her rival looking anything less than a perfect queen. Especially when the chit of a girl was probably coming to resume her place among her ladies. Anne had been grateful when Henry had seen that it was his actions, not hers, that had cost them her son. She had fully expected him to treat her with disdain after their child had been pulled from her belly, but he had been tender and loving and had been like the man she had fallen in love with. But she was no fool. She knew that despite his loving promises and affections he would not change. He would still want a son from her. He would still keep his little blonde whore, he would never be faithful only to her. She may have been forgiven for this mishap, but if she did not fall pregnant again, and soon, she doubted she would sit the throne for long. Already her father was pressuring her, telling her that Henry's clemency would not be long-lasting. She bit her lip, willing her tears not to fall again-certainly not in front of that little bitch. No doubt she would be smug, thinking that without a son in her belly, Anne's position was precarious.

So when she came into her presence chamber, Jane's bowing head came as a surprise to her. Her ladies, all of which had been confined with her as she recovered, all were sending the wretch daggered looks. They knew the cause of their mistress' misfortune.

"Mistress Seymour?" Anne queried, standing tall and composed. Let this girl do her worst.

"Your Majesty..." When Jane looked up, Anne hid her surprise at her face. Red and swollen eyes and a desperate twitch to her lips. This was not the smug seductress Anne was expecting-this was a woman wrapped in defeat. "I have come to beg your leave. I am afraid I will not be able to act as your Lady in Waiting anymore."

Scandalous whispers broke out among the onlooking ladies before Anne held up a hand, quieting them. "You are leaving your post...are you needed at Wolf Hall?" she queried, though the shame on the ladies face said otherwise.

Indeed, Jane bit her lip to stem what Anne knew would have been a hot retort before she just mumbled "No, your majesty...I have been ordered to remove myself from court.." More whispers, the more loyal of Anne's ladies glazed over with triumph in their eyes. Anne however, kept her face neutral as she took in Jane's appearance.

"Ordered by?" Jane glared at her for the clarifying question, but Anne needed to hear it. Here and now she needed to hear from her rivals own lips that she had won.

"By the king, your majesty." Anne had expected a wave of satisfaction hearing that her husband intended to be kind to her in this regard-sending his little strumpet from court, but, instead of feeling the jubilation her ladies were failing to hide, she just felt empty. She gazed at Jane Seymour, who had danced so close to the throne of England only to fall, and felt nothing but emptiness.

An empty womb and an empty heart.

Anne sighed and quickly motioned for Jane to rise from her knees, which she did stiffly. The two women stared at each other for what Anne hoped was the last time. Jane Seymour was not too different from her. She was an ambitious girl born in a time that did not favor shrewd women. Her demanding family had not educated her as Anne's had, but they had demanded the same of her-to trade her virtue and reputation on a gamble for the crown. Though Anne had gotten lucky-falling in love with the man they had pushed her towards, she knew that her father certainly hadn't cared about her feelings or what would have happened to her if she had failed. She looked at Jane and saw an alternate reality for herself and felt her heart weakening, if only for a moment.

She motioned for one of her ladies to step forward, not one that looked positively radiant at this turn of events. "Lady Hartwell, please take Lady Jane to Master Cromwell." Anne turned to the desk and scrawled out a quick note, pressing her personal seal to it, before handing it to her lady. "Instruct him to allot 40,000 crowns to Mistress Seymour for her service, to be used as a dowry when the lady becomes betrothed. Please have it stipulated that this should not be absorbed into the Seymour household, but rather used for the Lady Jane's benefit only." Lady Hartwell dipped a surprised curtsey, nodding her understanding, and Anne turned back to Jane, who stared at her in shock.

"Your majesty..." she sputtered, confusion written in her eyes, but Anne held up a hand to stop her.

"With this, I wash my hands of you, Mistress Seymour. You will go from court, never to return. Know I will not think of you past this moment, though I doubt you will be able to say the same of me." A weighted look came over Jane's features before she sank into another curtsey, deeper than the one before. She then rose and followed Lady Hartwell.

As Anne watched her walk away, she again reached into herself, hoping for some level of victory. But she knew that it wasn't even Jane that she blamed her pain on. Not truly. No, it was Henry that had caused her to lose her child. And dealing with his betrayal would be a lot harder to fix.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Long chapter! Hope you all enjoy!**

Two months had passed since Mistress Seymour had been sent from court and although Anne was wary, she had not heard wind of the king taking another mistress. This surprised her considering she had kept Henry out of her bed as well. Linacre had officially ruled that her body had not sufficiently healed since her last miscarriage and did not recommend she return to her husband's bed. While her father and uncle had cursed such a ruling, Anne herself was secretly pleased. She was not ready to resume her wifely duties; not as a bed mate and not as a companion and confidant. She knew she would not be able to shun Henry forever- not with her duties as queen on the line-but she was glad he seemed to accept her need for distance for the time being.

But the fact that he had not taken a mistress during this time surprised her. She forced herself to remember it was only a matter of time though. He had preached often enough about his _rights._ That as her lord and husband his actions were to be beyond her reproach. That he may do as he will without one word of protest from her. While he may be feeling racked with guilt now, she knew it would not last much longer. That soon he would be parading a new wench under her nose and demanding she act blind to it.

The thought was infuriating. So much so that she was pleased when the doctor himself ordered Henry to keep away. And despite her families insistence, she did nothing to warm her thoughts towards her faithless husband. She loved him still- nothing could diminish how her heart yearned for him. But she was betrayed and humiliated and hurt and no amount of coaxing from her father would get her to bridge this gap. If Henry wanted her back, he would have to work for it. And Henry-the golden prince of Christendom- had never had to work for a woman in his life.

Anne was not optimistic.

She was determined to do her duty and provide England with a prince (hopefully multiple, God willing) but she was equally determined to guard her heart now. It did not take love to make a prince. Not all was lost, but Anne thoroughly doubted Henry's ability to fix it. And she needed to stay strong if she were to not let her heart lead her again.

She was clinging to that cold detachment when Henry called on her, sending his page to request permission for him to join her for a private dinner. Anne send a clipped message back telling him she was his to command. But it didn't stop her from carefully arranging her hair and picking a lovely, deep blue gown that would pull the lighter tones from her eyes. The almost charcoal fabric was also a sign of mourning for the child that would never be. It would be a long time until she wore true colors again.

When Henry entered, she sank into a deep curtsey, refusing to rise until he told her to. When she finally met his eyes, she could see that he was hurt by her formality, but she didn't care. Hadn't he himself chastised her for her behaviour before-calling it unseemly for a queen to act in any way like she was equal to her husband. If he wanted the obedient, soft-spoken consort, she would give it to him. Let him reflect of the fiery, passionate woman he had rejected.

"Sweetheart" he came towards her and took her hands in his, pressing a kiss to her palms. "Forgive the intrusion. I hoped to spend some time away from the eyes at court. Hoped to keep your beauty all to myself!" he finished with a charming smile, taking her arm and leading her to the table where her ladies had laid out their supper.

"Yes, your majesty." Anne just responded, her lips slightly pursed. Let him be as charming as he wished, she would remain a block of ice.

But her clipped response did nothing to deter him as he chattered on throughout the meal. She had to admire his resiliency- despite having an unyielding partner, he managed to keep the one-sided conversation light and merry. It was next to exhausting staying morose with such a partner and when Henry brought up their darling daughter, Anne's veneer cracked.

"How is she?" Anne asked, wistfulness in her voice. She had not seen her Elizabeth since Henry had brought her for a short visit after their son was lost. The little girl was growing so quickly and soon would leave her childhood behind her. Anne missed her dearly.

"Growing to be a true Tudor Princess! I have already written to Francis to see about negotiations between her and one of his sons. Perhaps the Duke of Orleans? She is the jewel of all England- just as intelligent and lovely as her mother!" Henry reached to brush Anne's cheek with the compliment and Anne was too distracted by news of her daughter she failed to bristle at the touch.

"Not the Dauphin?" She knew the French king's eldest son was of marriageable age and that no doubt they would look for an older bride-one fit to bear an heir within a year or two. But still-it would not be unreasonable for him to wait a few more for Elizabeth to grow. Why would Henry delegate their daughter to a second son? One that would probably not inherit his father's crown?

Smiling at her rapt attention, Henry used to opportunity to take her hand in his. "The Dauphin is all but betrothed to a Medici girl. Besides, I'll be damned if I will hand the English throne to the Valois family." Anne stared, uncomprehending and Henry chuckled. "If Elizabeth is to be England's queen, I don't want her also tied to the French throne. She should be England's queen first, not consort to a French king that would use our resources to care for his own country."

Anne blinked, not knowing what to say. Henry had never talked about Elizabeth ascending the throne. Always referred to an unborn son taking his place after he passed. She didn't know how to process this change. Did he no longer have faith in her? Did he intend to replace her if she could not provide a Prince of Wales? Or was this his way of telling her something else-that he was no longer demanding such a thing from her? Anne's mind spun and she smiled, however forced, to fill the silence nodding as if she understood.

She could tell that he was enjoying catching her off guard with this as his eyes never left hers. "I also want to bring her to court more often this next year. Not permanent lodging yet, of course. She is still so young. But while she is already so perfect in her interactions with the courtiers, she should get more practice. This will be her home, after all. Until then, I am thinking of sending a few more tutors to Hatfield. Teach her what is necessary to rule. What do you think, sweetheart? Would you help me look for the proper teachers?"

Anne nodded again, still struck speechless as he rambled on as if he were informing her of the weather. As if he were not contradicting everything he had ever said to her in such a casual voice. Finally, she snapped out of her shock. She turned to her head Nan Saville and gave an apologetic half smile. "Would you ladies give us a moment?" Nan subtly gave her a supporting glance while she ushered out the other curious ladies. Henry watched with an amused look in his eyes until they were alone before he sent her a quizzical smirk.

"Henry..." she started, unsure of how to put her thoughts to words.

"Anne?" he purred, pressing a kiss to her fingers again.

But the amusement in his eyes irritated her. She found her temper spiking and she pulled her hand away. "Do you no longer trust I can provide you with a son?" she snapped and was pleased to see the smirk vanish.

She was expecting anger and disappointment to flash in his eyes, but was surprised to see only shock and a little bit of pain.

"No!" he cried, and Anne could detect a bit of indignation in his tone. "Anne, sweetheart..." he brought himself under control again before rising from his seat and kneeling before her. She felt her heart constrict at the sight. All she had known for the past few years was his temper and his impatience. To see him kneeling before her, contrition plain in his face had her doubts melting away. She allowed him to collect her hands again and watched as he pressed kisses onto each of her fingers, clearly trying to grasp what words would placate her.

"My own darling...I just want you to know that whatever happens in the future...whether we are given a healthy son or not...my feelings for you and your position in my life will remain unchanged. If we are not blessed with a son, it will be God's will that Elizabeth ascend the throne and rule as queen after me. In His wisdom, He has given our little Bess everything she needs to lead England into a golden age. If we are given a Prince for England, I will be the happiest man alive. And if we are not, I will still be the happiest man alive. I have been graced with a beautiful, loving queen who has given me the most perfect princess. How on earth could I ask for more?" He reached up and brushed tears she had no idea had fallen from her cheek. The tenderness combined with the words she had always longed to hear had the dam she had built within her crumbling.

The tears rolled down quicker and she felt the pressure within in her chest breaking. Before she knew it, Henry had risen and wrapped his arms around her as she sobbed against him. All the burdens she had carried with her since she had first been brought to court to catch the eye of the king were flowing out of her. And the man she loved, her Henry, was holding her, stroking her hair and mumbling loving words in her ear. All of the hardship they had faced had pitted them against each other, but for the first time since she had delivered Elizabeth, Anne felt that they were on the same team.

This was her husband-the man she was passionately in love with-not her enemy.

All her resolve to be the icy queen he had tried to make her evaporated and she allowed her fingers to tangle in his hair as she guided his mouth to hers. They fused together and Anne pressed her body flush with his. They were locked in this moment of overwhelming passion, but there was also a tenderness and love that had been absent for years. After a few blinding moments, she found herself gasping for air and the two chuckled at the intensity that they had clung to each other. He gently thumbed away the reminence of her tears and pressed his forehead to hers.

"My love...my queen. Please say you'll forgive me. Forgive me, my darling, for ever making you feel like you were not enough. That you were not all I ever asked for, prince in the cradle or no. You are my love, Anne. My God given queen. I will spend my life making this up to you." He did not give her a chance to respond as he pressed kiss after kiss over her eyes, nose, cheeks, and then finally sealing his promise to her lips.


	17. Chapter 17

At first, Anne had doubted him. She didn't even know how to trust him given the years of heartache he had put her through. And she was no fool-she had seen how he was with Katherine. She didn't think that it was possible for him to keep to one bed, though when they had first married she had been optimistic. For all his talk and for all his fervent promises, she still prepared herself for the day that she would stumble upon his newest mistress. Yet weeks went by with not even a whisper of another. Then months. Now two years had passed since Anne had lost her boy, and yet Henry was as devoted to her as he was in their courtship once again.

He had also paid much more attention to their little princess. Elizabeth was their pride and joy and Henry took caution to make sure that she was educated and cared for as his heir. He had even gone so far as to invest their daughter with the title 'Princess Royal'. He had wanted to make her the official Princess of Wales, but Anne had asked him to wait. His devotion to her and their daughter was touching and a soothing balm to all the hurt that had been inflicted in the early years of their marriage. But Anne had not lost hope that she could deliver on her promise to him. Elizabeth was perfect in every way, but Anne knew that it would be a hard road for her if she would have to take the throne of England. And her own pride weighed on her. She wanted to achieve what she had set out to do all those years ago. And perhaps this was her chance. She had missed her courses. Linacre had just left her this morning with the news she had been hoping for ever since she had reconciled with her husband.

She was with child again.

It was the first time since she had lost her little boy that she had conceived-the longest it had taken her. In the first few months she had been wracked with worry. She was terrified that her traumatic miscarriage had hurt her in some way and had left her unable to bear another child. Even Linacre's insistence that she was healthy did not soothe her fears. Then she had been worried that her newly healed relationship with Henry would crumble when she didn't immediately fall pregnant again. The pressure had grown and even her father had been quick to chastise her for her empty womb.

Anne had almost been sick with worry when she had finally broken down and opened up to her husband about her fears. Henry had instantly wrapped her in his arms and had assured her that all would be well. He had insisted again that it was God's will that Anne was his queen and that whatever happened, he would love her and honor her. And he had continued to have that optimistic attitude even as the months ticked by. He had even gone so far as to remove Thomas Boleyn from court-sending him on some mission in France. He had assured her again and again that she need not fear for her position or of losing his love.

Yes, her relationship with her husband was as promising as it had been in the early years. Perhaps this pregnancy would be like her first as well. It had been the only pregnancy where she had been relaxed, optimistic, and confident and it had been the only pregnancy that had resulted in healthy issue.

She took a deep breath as she laid a hand on her still flat belly. For the first time since Elizabeth, she felt only pure joy radiating through her. She would not stress for a son in these next 8 months. She would not be watching her ladies and wondering which one was warming her husbands bed. Boy or girl, this child would be wanted and cherished. Boy or girl, she would not worry about Henry's disappointment or wandering eyes. For the first time in so long, she was confident in his love for her. And this was truly the beginning of a golden age.

 **A/N: I may or may not do an epilogue to this story. I've gotten such mixed reviews and honestly it really discouraged me from writing the past few months. Hope this wasn't too much of a disappointment! I'm truly sorry for those that have really loved this and have been waiting on an update.**


	18. Chapter 18

"I can see the head! Push, your Majesty!" Anne barely registered the midwife's voice as another contraction wracked her body. Her fingers gripped her sisters hands tightly as she let out another blood curdling scream. This had been going on for hours, but it was still not yet finished. She sagged down into the sweat covered sheets as her muscles gave her a moment's respite.

"Come, Anne. Just a few more pushes and you'll be holding your child!" Mary whispered encouragingly, pushing a few errant strands of hair away from her damp face. Anne was so happy she had recalled her sister to court. She was grateful for Mary's gentle, motherly touch in this moment of agony.

Anne took a deep breath as she felt another contraction coming and bore down with all of her strength, gritting her teeth as her body rippled to expel the child in her womb. Finally she felt that slip of wetness and knew that the worst was over. Indeed, moments later she heard the wailing of an infant.

The whole room let out a sigh of relief to hear such loud screams coming from the newborn indicating a healthy pair of lungs. Anne collapsed against the bloody sheets as the midwives moved to clean the child, a weak, exhausted smile gracing her lips.

"Another true Tudor, sister" Mary said happily as the child wailed. "Such a temper!" Anne chuckled and let the ladies around her lift her so they could remove the ruined sheets and replace them with crisp new ones. Mary rubbed a cool cloth over her brow and helped redo the plait that had come undone in the struggle. The moment she was deemed respectable, the doors were open and Henry strode in, a wide smile on his face.

"Sweetheart! You are well?" He moved and kissed her forehead before turning to the chief midwife, who was approaching with a small bundle. The woman beamed, placing he child in Henry's waiting arms.

"A perfect, healthy, little princess!" she exclaimed.

Henry returned the woman's bright smile before turning to his wife, his eyes still locked on his newest child in wonder.

"She's beautiful, Anne," he murmured, rubbing a finger along the child's petal soft cheek. The girl had quieted instantly after being placed in her father's arms.

"Well don't keep her to yourself!" Anne teased, feigning a pout. "Are you going to let me hold my daughter that I just spent 7 hours bringing into the world?" Henry chuckled before passing the bundle into his wife's embrace. He waved an arm to the watching ladies and midwifes and they dispersed to continue their work, giving the royal couple a moment alone with the newest addition."She is beautiful..." Anne murmured, already in love with the little girl.

"Shall she be Anne, then? In honor of the most beautiful woman alive?" Henry nuzzled Anne's neck and she giggled at the flattery, slapping him away playfully.

"She doesn't look like me, though!" Indeed, the new baby sported the famous Tudor red-gold locks and her features were not quite Boleyn either. "She looks like Elizabeth."

"And Alexander. And Cecily even, despite how she received your coloring." Henry countered, causing Anne to grin.

Indeed, out of her six children, half were blessed with Henry's mother's bronze locks. Henry, their Prince of Wales, was dark like Anne, as well as Cecily. And little Margaret, Cecily's twin, was blonde, like Anne's sister.

"Well we were going to name her Owen if she were a boy for the father of the Tudor dynasty. Why not Catherine? For the Valois princess"

Henry wrinkled his nose and shook his head, as she half expected him to. Katherine of Aragon's shadow still lingered in his mind, she knew. Though whether it was from guilt or not, she would never ask. She knew as soon as he had made peace with Mary and their relationship had improved, his feelings toward the Dowager Queen would always be conflicted. Anne had long left the rivalry she felt with the woman behind, but she could understand that her husband would not want a daughter bearing her name.

"Come-she should be Anne. We have our Henry, we have honored our mothers with Elizabeth, and our sisters with Margaret and my Mary. You would not allow me to give Cecily your name-this new little one should have it."

Anne laughed, finally relenting. "Fine...fine. Anne she shall be. Our little Annie" she kissed the infant's brow and chuckled as the babe gurgled happily.

Henry stood finally, opening up the main door to the presence chamber where the rest of their family waited for news. Henry stood silently for a moment, heightening the anticipation before addressing the small crowd before him.

"We have a new daughter!" He crowed and Anne could hear the cheers from her bed. She grinned at the pageantry and a moment later, her children ran in to meet their new sibling. Cecily and Maggie raced ahead and climbed up to greet her, their enthusiasm warming her heart. Only being four, they were unconcerned with any propriety. Elizabeth, a little lady at thirteen, followed at a slower speed carrying two year old Alex who was content in his sister's arms. Elizabeth bent to kiss her mother's cheek and to catch a glimpse of the new child.

"She's beautiful, mama" Anne looked up at her darling daughter and not for the first time felt an arrow pierce at her heart as she took in Elizabeth's grace and maturity. This new princess would never fill the whole in Anne's heart when her eldest left for France in a few years.

Harry followed behind the rest of the children, with their father, his keen gaze taking in the mess of bloody sheets that were being hauled away. For seven, he was very observant. He came and took his mother's hand, not even sparing the bundle a glance yet.

"You are feeling fine, mama? We heard you crying so loudly" he asked, concern in his gaze. Anne's heart melted at her tender little boy. Just as Elizabeth had always had a soft spot for her father, little Henry had always worshiped his mother. She was unsurprised that he would be so concerned. He had been only three when the twins were born and had not been present when she had given birth to Alexander.

"Yes, my darling." She pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to his dark hair. "I am well. Now come, meet your sister!" Now those pale blue eyes, her very own, turned and brightened as he took in the child's face. While the twins had glanced quickly at the babe and then had been distracted, Harry was completely absorbed. He held out a finger and gasped with the babe gripped at it tightly.

Anne looked about at her family and felt her heart warming. Elizabeth was chatting happily with Henry, her arms supporting Alex as he played with her necklace. The twins were arguing good-naturedly about who the babe looked more like, and Harry was awestruck as little Annie clutched at his finger. She felt a smile tugging at her lips and she glanced towards her husband. Although Henry was deep in conversation with their eldest, his eyes met hers and she could feel that he felt the same as she did in that moment.

That no matter how they got to this moment, no matter the struggles and obstacles they faced, this moment...right here, surrounded by their happy, healthy children, together in a truly loving marriage... was what God had always intended for them.

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 _Fin_

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 **Thank you everyone for your support and love throughout this whole story! I truly hope you enjoyed!**


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